


Uprising

by samdeancas



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel (House of M)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 23:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5109866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samdeancas/pseuds/samdeancas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Pietro may not remember how it all started, but he knows how it will end."</p>
<p>A short piece about Pietro's and Namor's relationship in "Secret Wars: House of M".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uprising

(1/1)

 

 

It is hot down here, even though it shouldn't be. They are so many miles under the sea and if it wasn't for Atlantean knowledge Pietro would be freezing to death. Instead he's almost sweating, his body pressed against Namor's, their tongues intertwined. He can feel Namor's smile on his own mouth, when he gives in to Pietro. He never does this; the former king never, _never_ lets him win.

 

A rush of power and arousal flows through Pietro. He knows that Namor deliberately lost their little fight, but he can't help the feeling. In less than a second he drives Namor against the edge of his bed; he's in charge right now and he has to make the most of it.

 

Somewhere in the back of his mind he wonders how it all started; he can't tell anymore. It must have been after another fight with his father; maybe it had been a loud one, which included all the family members, or maybe Magnus just said something, anything, the straw that broke the camel's back.

 

It doesn't last long. Even before Pietro finishes undressing Namor, which really doesn't take long since the King of Atlantis seems to have a deep aversion against clothes, Namor turns them around.

 

He remembers the look on Namor's face, when his father started the negotiations: pure, cold hate. It sparked something in Pietro; up until now he can't say what it was. He felt some sort of connection, some deep understanding: both of them want to rule and for both of them Magnus is not only a hindrance but something worse. He is everything they loathe and everything they want to be.

 

'Where are your thoughts?', Namor hisses against his neck and Pietro thinks he is angry. Namor isn't touching him, not more than necessary; and while he's not exactly a gentle lover, he's not that reserved. Except for when he is pissed at Pietro or Magnus or just the world.

 

'I'm here', Pietro murmurs and kisses him slowly but deeply. He's so hot right now, almost as if he had a fever and then he can feel Namor pushing down his pants. Suddenly he is well aware of their positions, of how much power Namor holds over him. He scowls slightly and hurries away to one of the windows, out of Namor's reach.

 

'You are in a mood to play', Namor states warily – it is not a question.

 

'I'm not playing. Tonight I rule”, Pietro answers calmly. He won't back down, not this time. Namor may think he's playing hard to get, but no. He is as much a king as the Atlantean and he has had enough of being tossed around by someone else.

 

Namor smiles, but there is no real emotion in his eyes. Pietro can feel the anger swell in his chest. And he drives his fist into Namor's face. It's his instincts that save Namor from having more than a red streak on his left cheek. Pietro looks at him, surprised by his own actions, but then he composes himself. “Dumbfounded” is not an expression a king should wear.

 

Namor looks just a little bit dumbfounded, but just for the fraction of a second. Pietro doesn't even think that he is aware of that. Then his expression turns murderous and Pietro sees the kick coming before it actually does. It has nothing to do with his powers, he just knows because he knows Namor. He manages to dodge the attack and tries to think of something that could make him win this battle, while preparing for the next one. Namor probably knows him just as well – especially when it comes to his powers. Always know how to take down your ally, just in case. King's rules number one rule.

 

Suddenly an idea pops up in his head; it is not a good one, at least it doesn't feel good – in fact, he would almost prefer not to use it. It is the only one he has though and biting back the bitter taste of defeat and disgust on his tongue he falls on his knees _and submits._

 

Namor stops his fists mid-air. Pietro doesn't even need to look at him to know he has that arrogant smile plastered all over his face; the smile that shouts “Imperius Rex” from the roofs, the one that makes him look overly attractive, but somehow weirdly repelling at the same time.

 

“Soon you will rule. But tonight I am the only king in this room.”

 

Pietro can shut his mouth only so long, stay still only so long. But Namor is not done.

 

“Patience suits you. You should try that more often.”

 

It could have been a compliment. Maybe. Maybe in a world not ruled by his father, maybe in a world where he wasn't a speedster, maybe in a world where he didn't have to listen to everybody always telling him to stop talking so fast, stop moving so fast, stop being so fast, _stop being_.

 

In this world it makes Pietro snap and rise and grip Namor's neck with his right hand and then shove his left hand onto his chest and use his whole body to drive him into the wall so hard that it cracks. Namor didn't even have the time to blink.

Pietro's face is barely an inch away from Namor's. His whole right arm now presses against the Atlantean's neck, keeping him in place and every word in his mouth. He knows, he can't play this game for long. There's a reason Namor was King of Atlantis.

 

“And I think you should try silence more often. I like you way better that way, my _ex_ -king.'

 

It is a low blow, but it has the desired effect: Namor's eyes flash with hatred. Before he can make a move though, Pietro presses a kiss to his lips, hard and unrelenting. He manages apparently to apply just the right amount of pressure to Namor's neck, so that he can force open his mouth and use his tongue for another of their fights.

He knows Namor; he can't lose. He won't lose.

 

He's right. Namor fights back, first with his tongue, pushing and pulling; then with his body. Pietro has loosened his grip and Namor takes the chance and manhandles him the other way around. Now it's Pietro with his back in the broken wall. He can feel the cold stone leaving marks on his back. His lips start to feel numb and he's pretty sure Namor bit him a few times already. One of his hands is buried in his silver hair so deep that it hurts.

 

He knows this won't be a nice fuck. It will hurt, both of them. Namor will hurt him to prove it to himself; Pietro will be just as brutal to prove it to him: they are both kings, at least in their hearts and neither will back down.

 

Pietro may not remember how it all started, but he knows how it will end. Soon Pietro will be king and then he will bow to him.


End file.
